


Five Times Gabriel Cock-blocked Dean (and the one time he didn't have to)

by poD7et



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - High School, Debriel Mini Bang, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Prankster Gabriel, Pre-Slash, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Snark, pre-debriel, the author thinks they are funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 03:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10296278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poD7et/pseuds/poD7et
Summary: There's a hot new student at Lawrence High School and Dean Winchester is on the hunt -- except for the fact that new kid's asshole older brother Gabe is the biggest cock-block the world has ever seen.





	1. Constantine's Big Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Big shout out to my artist [ideare](http://ideare.livejournal.com/) who went above and beyond the call of duty making a BAJILLION edits for this fic! Look at the art master post [here](http://ideare.livejournal.com/) or [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10326272)!
> 
> Also to [hexmaniacchoco](http://amanivuote.livejournal.com/13374.html) who came over to the darkside and started writing SPN Coldest Hits with me. And also did me the HUGEST favor of beta reading this trash. They are amazing. Any remaining mistakes are 100% mine.

  
  


“High school’s no joke, Sammy. You gotta study hard if you want to get into a good college. Teachers aren’t just gonna go easy on ya ‘cause you’re my little brother, ya know?”

Dean watched Sam narrow his eyes. He could just about hear the lecture he was drafting. ‘Like _you’re_ one to talk! Whine whine whine! Nyah nyah nyah!’ Or something like that.

A half smile snuck onto Dean’s lips. Sam could be a little shit, but he was the best part of Dean’s shitty life. Dean was already more or less running his dad’s garage in addition to trying to survive his senior year of high school. He fantasized about running away. Hell, he’d even settle for another 2-4 years of school if it offered a reprieve, but he wouldn’t leave his brother behind.

But right now he had to adult for Sam. Tell him to stay out of trouble and the like. Except Sam was gone. Dean’s big brother instinct went into overdrive. He scanned the school grounds until he caught sight of his Sammy slipping past a crowd of students by the building’s big double doors as the morning’s warning bell rang out.

Dean crept to the edge of the mass and listened as everyone whispered their opinion of some new student in town. From what he could gather, new kid was _hot_. But based on his intel, there was a good chance that she was a total nerd because as far as Dean could tell, despite being a year younger, they were in many of the same classes. Nobody’s perfect, Dean thought. He pressed forward. He heard plenty of gossip and a few things that could have been a name: Cassie or Cathy L.

Dean pressed through the mob of students. He found someone wearing a tan trench coat a few sizes too big, staring at their schedule as if it were the most important thing in the world -- the new kid.

Dean cleared his throat.

Nothing.

He waved a hand in front of the new kid’s face.

Still nothing.

“Yo, new kid!” Dean shouted, obnoxiously snapping his fingers inches from new guy’s face.

It was several long moments before the new kid seemed to register the attempts to get his attention. He looked at Dean. Suddenly, Dean knew what the other kids were talking about. He (so probably not Cathy) had a pleasant face with movie-star blue eyes. Under the coat, he donned a pair of honest to goodness dress slacks and a button down shirt with a blue tie slightly askew. Dean debated whether it was a fashion choice or genuine obliviousness. He leaned toward the latter.

“Hello . . . ” the new kid greeted, seeming unsure if he should know who this person was.

“Dean,” he supplied, “Dean Winchester.”

“Hello, Dean,” hot new kid repeated.

Dean tried not to let the way his name sounded go straight to his groin. “You must be the new guy,” Dean stated matter-of-factly.

Not-Cathy squinted, but said nothing.

“Anyway, on behalf of the Lawrence High School Welcome Committee, we uh . . .well, we welcome you.”

The new kid looked Dean up and down. He suddenly felt very self-conscious about his attire. He was wearing a pair of oil-stained jeans, steel-toed boots, and a Zeppelin t-shirt under an unbuttoned flannel.

“I said, ‘Welcome to Lawrence High School,’ uhh . . .” Dean still didn’t know the guy’s name. If he were really on a welcome committee, he’d probably know something. He knew it was weird and started with a “C”. Cathy? That didn’t seem right. Christian? Carmine? Dean smiled. “ _Constantine._ ”

“My name isn’t Const--”

“Look here, kiddo. Just because you somehow managed to make 90s grunge apparel look sexy, doesn’t mean you get to dole out nicknames like you own the place,” asserted a person Dean didn’t recognize.

“Who’s talking to you, shortstack?” Dean retorted.

“I may be short, but I compensate in other areas,” he answered with a smug grin plastered on his face. “I’d be more than happy to show you.”

“Yeah,” Dean answered lamely. His interest was piqued, but he quickly remembered he was in a battle for his honor. “I’m sure you have a really big, fat . . . _ego_.”

The newcomer chuckled. “Damn straight, I--”

“Excuse me, but no one insults my ass of a brother,” not-Constantine chimed in.

Dean furrowed his brow at the blatant contradiction.

“No one, except for me,” he amended.

“Oh how sweet! Sticking up for your little brother!” Dean snarked at blue-eyes.

“Well, actually Gabe’s my--” not-Constantine began.

“Older brother,” Gabe finished. “ _I’m_ the older brother.”

Dean rolled his eyes at this last comment, then looked at the pair of them. New guy was several inches taller and more conventionally handsome than his supposedly older brother.

“Well, _I’m_ an older brother. And unlike you, I’m actually taller than Sammy,” Dean retorted. He went to punctuate the end of the sentence with some form of assertion of physical dominance, but blue-eyes was walking into the building and and his brother was nowhere to be seen.


	2. Cross Country

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's _running_ himself into the ground trying to gain Cas's affection.

  
  


Dean stared at his creation. He was a half-decent artist if he said so himself. He was doodling a sexy version of the school mascot, the _chesty_ lion. It was mostly chest and partly lion and all kinds of sexy. But his strange fantasy was interrupted by the bell. He quickly gathered his things and headed toward the door.

He was the last in line to leave, right behind new guy. Cathy/not-Cathy or something. It was a crap name. But speaking of behinds, new guy sported a rather delicious one. So much so that Dean almost didn’t realize that Cas -- yeah, that was a good placeholder name -- wasn’t moving. Dean was about to be late for the only class he cared about: lunch. He thought of a million ways to deal with this situation, some of which involved “accidental” groping as he pushed his way through the door. But then he saw what the hold up was all about. Cas was getting a phone number from someone wearing red track pants with two thin black stripes running down each side. 

Dean grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes before switching gears and putting on his most charming smile. “So, you’re into track and field too? I can get behind that.”

Cas turned around and raised an eyebrow at Dean. “Huh?”

“I see you’re into runners,” Dean said, annoyance obviously creeping into his tone, “You do the whole track team at your old school?”

“No.”

“So, why are you hitting up track suit?”

Cas contemplated Dean’s question, then said, “I was interested in joining your cross-country team.”

Dean thought of how he could use this to his advantage. “Yeah, like I was saying, track is awesome.” It was just then that Dean noticed a flyer for tryouts.

Cas slowly nodded once. Dean thought he looked unsure. Almost as if he didn’t quite understand Dean’s use of the word awesome.

“So, see you next Wednesday after school for tryouts, right?” Dean asked.

Dean watched the obvious skepticism pass over Cas’s face. He knew he didn’t look like one of those track-suit losers. But you can’t blame a guy for trying. And it wasn’t football or anything. How hard could running be?

“Sure,” Cas said, his voice rising at the end almost as if it was more of a question than a statement. “Would you like to join me for a quick jog after school?”

Dean balked. He desperately wanted to use some lame excuse, but he also didn’t want to be called out on his bluff. “Of course!” he exclaimed, compensating his nervousness with over-enthusiasm. “But I’ve been putting in a lot of extra time at the shop, so I’m not in the best shape right now. Gotta get my ass into shape for the uh, season. Just so you know. Ya know?”

“No pressure,” Cas assuaged. “It’s an easy run. I don’t know the neighborhood that well, but Zak told me about a route that’s just over 5k. Ease into things, right?”

“Yeah, right,” Dean answered, hoping that Cas didn’t hear the sarcasm behind the response. “See your skinny ass at the locker room after school.”

“Yours too,” Cas responded, and then turned and briskly walked to his next class.

Dean blushed thinking about how Cas just talked about his skinny ass. It wasn’t his fault that his genes dictated that his rear wasn’t all that plump. But all was forgotten as he watched Cas’s stupid coat (who wore their jacket inside?) flaring as he walked down the hall. Damned asshole wore the thing all day. And Dean would be lying to himself if that didn’t turn him on just a little. He watched Cas walk down the hall, his jacket settling over his form as Dean’s eyes settled on his ass -- which definitely wasn’t skinny.

\--*-----

Dean spent the rest of the day fretting over the run. He had no idea how far 5k was in miles and he was seriously hoping it was under five miles and not over. He wished he had paid more attention in math, or science, or whatever the hell subject they taught this shit in. 

Dean cut his last class of the day, English . . . who needed the damn class anyway? It’s not like he’d need to know anything about the theme of the Odyssey after he graduated. Instead he used this time to visit the boys’ locker room. He fumbled with the lock until he remembered the combination. Inside was a cruddy pair of sneakers and a pair of the school’s bright red gym shorts -- although they were from two years ago and the fit was more than a little snug. But it would have to do. It was either that or run in his jeans. The gym shirt however was quite ripe and completely unwearable. Looked like he’d be taking his Skynyrd shirt out for a run.

The last bell of the day rang. Dean was dressed, ready to go, and awkwardly waiting for Cas to show up. Every time someone walked into the locker room, Dean pretended to pull on his shirt or tie his shoes so it didn’t look like he was just waiting for Cas to show up for the last 45 minutes.

After three false-alarms, Cas arrived. He opened his locker and (much to Dean’s disappointment), took his clothes to one of the stalls to change. No free show before what would likely be a painful exercise in physical activity.

When Cas emerged dressed in professional looking gear, they walked outside. The cool fall air hit Dean like a ton of bricks, and he shivered. Cas did something with his watch and then nodded at Dean before setting what felt like a breakneck pace.

Dean did his best to keep up. For a good half mile he managed. But sooner, rather than later, it got the better of him. Dean made a good faith effort for another ten seconds until Cas was out of eyeshot -- and that was when he just gave up. He thought about how he could cut the course without Cas becoming suspicious. While plotting his ‘second wind’ he heard tires rolling over loose gravel behind him.

Dean politely stepped off the road and waited for it to pass him. After an eternity of waiting, Dean turned and saw a gaudy, tan-colored 1970-something Lincoln Continental. He stepped further away from the roadway, but the car just waited. Dean waved the car past, but it didn’t oblige. Quickly losing his temper, he looked to see who was behind the wheel. He expected an elderly person or maybe a student who just got their license, but instead was greeted with a cheesy grin from none other than Cas’s big brother.

As they made eye-contact, Gabe pressed the horn and Dean heard Duke’s Dixie ring out. Dean wasn’t sure what to expect, but that wasn’t it. And the shock of it all managed to throw him off-balance. He tripped and skidded across the pavement feeling the fabric of his shorts tear right over his ass.

Crap.

What now? He certainly wasn’t going to keep running with his ass hanging out. But that’s when Dean realized he could use this to his advantage. In a moment of pure genius, he flagged Cas’s brother down and climbed into the passenger seat of the car. Inside, he was assaulted with too much new car smell car-freshener. Dean swallowed the urge to give Gabe a piece of his mind, but instead made polite conversation.

“Fancy running into you here, Mr. Cobain!” Gabe greeted. “My name is Gabriel and I’ll be your driver today.”

“It’s Dean and thanks for the ride, man.”

“I’d give you a ride any time, as long as you ask nicely,” Gabe said, clearly implying a different sort of ride.

This guy is like the beginning of every bad porno I’ve ever seen, Dean thought. I didn’t think people actually talked like this. Do people even like this? 

“Yeah, well. Do you think you could give me a lift back to school?” Dean finished, lamely.

“No problemo. What are you doing walking down the side of the road anyway?” Gabe asked. “I know you got a set of wheels. I’ve seen you fussing over that old tin-can of yours.”

“Watch it!” Dean warned, momentarily forgetting that Gabe was doing him a favor by driving him to school. “And baby’s a classic. Not like this _tin-can_. Right now we’re sitting in the freaking pimp mobile. I half expected a mirrored roof and a disco-ball.”

“Well, I’ll get working on the roof, but as for the disco ball, that can be arranged pretty easily,” Gabe answered.

“No thanks,” Dean replied. It took all of his willpower not to smack that damned smile off his face. It really rubbed him the wrong way. He thought how to tell Gabe without getting some sort of sarcastic retort. But then he realized the engine had cut out some time ago. 

“The offer’s still on the table if you change your mind,” Gabe said far too seriously for Dean’s comfort.

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” Dean answered. “Actually, I do have a favor to ask if you don’t mind.”

Gabe leaned in, eager to hear what Dean had to say.

“Promise you won’t tell Cas I split my pants on the side of the road?” Dean said, half-expecting someone to jump out and tell him that he was punk’d, but instead Gabe just nodded earnestly. “Or that you gave me a ride?”

Gabe smiled, placed one hand over his heart and the other in the air and said, “I swear on my mother’s grave.”

Dean was skeptical, “Is your mother dead?”

“I don’t know,” Gabe replied with a sort of sincerity that Dean wasn’t prepared for.

“Oh hey, dude . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .” Dean trailed off, not knowing quite how to handle the snafu.

Gabe’s sober face quickly morphed back into his usual expression of carefree snark. “Yeah, well, manly feelings and all that jazz. I don’t need a Lifetime made-for-TV movie about it. You better get that cute little ass of yours into the locker room before my little bro gets in. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that he could fly.”

Dean wasn’t giving Gabe a piece of his ass, but he contemplated giving him a piece of his mind. He knew how protective older brothers could be, though. He knew exactly what he would do to anyone trying to pick up Sam. And he certainly wasn’t prepared to deal with any of that from Gabe.

Dean stepped out of the car and felt a cool breeze across his bare asscheeks. Then he realized exactly how far they were from the locker room doors. Under different circumstances he would have demanded to be driven closer. But the smile on Gabe’s face told Dean all that he needed to know. This was as good as it was going to get.

Acknowledging his loss, Dean watched Gabe suck on his bottom lip. Dean exited the car and used every last shred of dignity to not sprint toward the locker rooms. In a last-minute moment of bravado, he sashayed into the building, baring his ass to Gabe as the door closed behind him. 


	3. Study Buddies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a plan to get into Cas's ~~pants~~ room. He decides to schedule a study date with Cas in chemistry :D

  
  


“So what do you want to do when you graduate?” Sam asked.

Dean groaned. He wasn’t in the mood to entertain the question. “Sam, do us a favor and go to class. Be the good son. I’ll meet you at home.”

Sam scowled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” he muttered.

“Watch it kid--”

“I’m not a kid,” Sam whined.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Watch it, because if you pull a bitch-face like that too quickly then you might pull a muscle. Might get stuck that way. Wouldn’t want to ruin your boyish good looks over questions you already know the answer to.”

In an out of character display of defiance, Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean.

“Yeah, well, you just go read those books after school, nerd!” Dean yelled.

“Yeah, well, that means you have to give me a ride to the library!” Sam shouted in a sing-song taunt.

“God! Do I have to do everything in this family?” Dean moaned, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

“Not my fault. I don’t make the rules! I’m not old enough to drive,” Sam whined, then under his breath added, “Not that you’d let me anyway.”

“Never stopped me!” Dean scoffed.

“Yeah, well I never went to juvy!” Sam said, wincing at Dean’s reaction. He instantly knew he crossed a line.

A flash of real anger passed over Dean’s face. It wasn’t juvy. Not really. Sure, he screwed up, but he was given a second chance. Dean took a slow, deep breath and quelled the urge to punch his brother. He scowled and stormed off. Once he was sure Sam was out of sight, Dean smiled. He loved the little guy--even if he could be an annoying brat. Sam knew damn well that Dean was only looking out for him. Sam was actually one of the only reasons Dean was still in school. He had a good job (even if he resented it at times) and the pay wasn’t getting any better if he stuck around to get a fancy piece of paper that June. Dean was here to be a ‘role-model’ for Sam. Someone had to be.

But despite his reputation, Dean wasn’t just a pretty face. He was a solid B-student, and Sam was genuinely impressed -- even if sibling rivalry would never allow him to say it aloud. Plus Dean never spent hours poring over notes like Sam. He just had a knack for it. 

The same way he hoped he’d have a knack for getting into Cas’s ~~pants~~ heart.

Dean somehow managed to make the cut for the cross-country team despite his embarrassing first foray into the sport. Which meant this was the first time in his academic career that grades actually mattered. He wasn’t in danger of failing, but with the hours he put in at the garage, he didn’t always have energy for things like homework. But if his grades slipped, he’d be cut from the team. Which in turn would cut his chances with Cas.

But this wasn’t a tragedy. It was quite the opposite. This was an _opportunity_. Dean, who had never been much of a brain, would use his perceived academic ineptitude to score some alone time with the guy.

Dean was pretty sure he and Cas had chemistry together and was positive they were also in the same chem class. _And_ there was a test coming up . . .

“Hey, Cas. You think you can help me out with those redox equations after practice? Like, I keep screwing up the whole half-electron whatever thingy.”

Cas wrinkled his nose. “If by the whole ‘half electron _whatever_ thingy’ you mean the redox half-reactions, then I don’t see why not.’

“Great!” Dean replied. “I’ll even throw in a lift to your place. We can stop and grab some burgers to go if you’re up for it.”

“Actually, I think Gabe wa--”

“ _Awesome_ ,” Dean interrupted, trying his best not to let that name get to him. Dean still wasn’t quite over their last encounter. “Meet you at my car after practice and we’ll grab some burgers!”

\--*-----

“Hey, thanks for helping me out back there, dude,” Dean said, resting one arm over Cas’s shoulder and limping slightly. He wasn’t _really_ hurt, but he _did_ genuinely twist his ankle during practice.

“I’m sorry,” Cas replied, “Are you sure you’re good to walk?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Nothing a little R&R won’t heal. Let’s just get me to the car,” Dean said, throwing on a “brave little soldier” grimace.

“Alright,” Cas agreed, although he didn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive? I have my licen--”

“I’m fine,” Dean answered without waiting for Cas to finish the word. Cas seemed offended. “I mean, I think I’ll be fine once I sit down. And it’s not my driving foot anyway. I’ll be ffff--” Dean said, drawing out the sound as he caught sight of his brother loitering by his car, “--uck my ass.” 

“What?!” Cas exclaimed.

Dean forgot about his ankle and stomped toward Sam. He wasn’t about to let his little brother ruin this fortuitous moment. But he couldn’t just blow his top -- he didn’t want to look like a complete jerk in front of Cas.

A little too late, Dean remembered he was injured and started limping again. He’d regret storming off later (he could already feel his ankle rebelling), but intimidating Sam was worth a few aches and pains. 

When he got to his car, he leaned on it for support. He hoped it looked cool and casual to his brother. Sam didn’t mention it. He was unimpressed. 

“Don’t you give me that look,” Dean hissed.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam said, recoiling from the mess of awkward that was his brother. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” Dean spat back. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the library or something?”

“Yeah, I was . . . but _someone_ never showed up to give me a ride,” Sam said, puffing up his chest in a show of defiance.

“Yeah, well it’s too late now. The library’s gonna close about a half-hour after we’d get there,” Dean remarked.

“Well a half-hour’s better than nothing,” Sam grumbled pulling on the passenger side door only to find it locked.

“Listen,” Dean said leaning into Sam’s personal space, “ I gotta study for this chem test tomorrow, so I’m heading over to Cas’s. Think you can just hoof it back home?”

“Wait,” Sam said, sounding far too excited for this turn of events, “do you mean chem with Mr. Devereaux?”

“Yeeeah . . .” Dean answered. He wasn’t sure why this was important, but he had a sinking feeling.

“GREAT!” Sam exclaimed! “I was really struggling to understand the difference between hydrogenation and reduction if such a thing should exist because hydrogenation is inherently a reduction, but is reduction hydrogenation? Oxidation is the loss of electrons whether or not an oxygen is involved. But I’m not sure if hydrogenation has taken on the same meaning as its counterpart and sometimes I get confused--”

“That’s really great, Mr. Wizard, but why exactly do you care?” Dean sighed.

“Oh!” Sam said, a huge smile plastered on his face, “I didn’t have the space in my schedule, but Mr. Devereaux is letting me take the class as an independent study. But I could really use some extra practice. I was going to head to the library to do some research, but if you and Cas are going to be studying anyway, I could just tag along!”

Dean groaned audibly.

“Oh! Hey, Cas!” Sam beamed.

Dean slowly turned and was surprised to find Cas standing far too close. Dean nearly jumped into his brother’s arms and Sam did his best to stifle a giggle. Cas just stared.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Cas asked, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes. Dean shot him a stern look that said ‘shut up or I’ll kick your ass later, shrimp.’

Sam cleared his throat and said, “So Dean told me you’re going to study for Devereaux’s class and I thought we could make it a party!”

Cas cracked a smile. Dean managed one too. “Alright, but first we grab some grub,” Dean announced, limping to the driver’s side. He watched Sam and Cas share a smile. They were way too excited about chemistry. 

Sam climbed into the back seat (much to Dean’s relief). For a moment, he thought Sam was going to pull rank and call shotgun and that Dean’d have to pull some big brother crap to get Cas in the passenger seat. But Sam just climbed into the back without prompting. Although, Dean’s relief was short-lived as Cas also crawled into the back.

“Dude, this isn’t a freakin’ taxi service,” Dean growled.

Sam appeared to make a move for the front seat at the same time Cas said, “We know, but the faster you drive, the faster we’ll get to Biggerson’s.”

Sam sat back in his seat and smiled while he listened to Dean grumble something about how giving him orders wasn’t really helping with the whole cab driver thing.

Dean listened to Cas actually _laugh_ at something Sam said. Dean rolled his eyes so loudly he was pretty sure it could be heard the next state over. He popped in some tunes hoping it would drown out the noise.

It seemed to take forever, but after hitting what felt like every light en route, Dean made it to the Biggerson’s drive through. Sam ordered his usual salad in a frap-cup. Cas got one too, but Dean forgave him because he also ordered two burgers and a side of fries. Apparently Cas could really pack in the calories. Dean settled for a classic bacon cheeseburger deluxe, and then the trio made a beeline for Cas’s place. 

Dean made a conscious decision to blast his music for the remainder of their trip. And Cas took that time to tell Dean exactly what he thought about Metallica. 

“What sort of music do you listen to?” Cas asked Sam.

Sam said something that sounded more like the title of a dissertation than a band, followed by something else that didn’t seem to have any vowels in it. 

“. . . really?” was the only thing that Cas had to say in response, but his tone made it clear that he wasn’t a fan.

Dean almost reached back to high-five Cas, but then thought better of it. Instead, the rest of the ride was spent in awkward silence.

Dean parked and waited at the front door while Sam and Cas crawled out from the backseat. There were a few missteps, but eventually they figured it out. The three of them just sorta stood there a moment before Cas fumbled in his pocket for a key. 

And that’s when Gabe opened the door. 

Nothing was going like Dean planned. He justed wanted to go to Cas’s room, eat a burger, play up his ankle “injury” which by now he had mostly forgotten, and then make out in his bedroom. But apparently it wasn’t that simple.

Gabe grinned like an idiot as he used both arms to wave the trio inside. Sam immediately ran upstairs. Dean mumbled something about manners and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Gabe was staring at him. What’s his problem, Dean thought.

“Here’s your food,” Cas said, handing over one of the burgers and fries. Dean’s initial assessment of Cas may have been premature. “Sam and I will be in my room.”

Cas took off, leaving Dean and Gabe to fend for themselves.

“Does that mean you came to visit little ol’ me, sweetcheeks?” Gabe asked with his best Southern Belle accent.

Did this guy ever quit? “No,” Dean said from somewhere in the back of his throat. He looked up at the stairs and wondered if he should even bother with a response or if he should just walk away now. This day had been so odd. Maybe it was all a bad dream. 

“Oh,” was all the smartass managed. And for a second Dean _almost_ thought Gabe’s face fell. But that was definitely wrong. Dean decided he had had enough of this and turned, only to realize he had no idea where Cas’s room was. And on that note, how did _Sam_ know?

“I, uh . . .” Dean said, brushing back his hair, suddenly feeling a little hot under the collar, “Cas said he’d help me out with chemistry.”

Any idea that Dean had of Gabe feeling slighted was now gone. Gabe let out a hearty laugh at the word chemistry. “Yeah, you’re gonna need some luck there, bucko.”

“So uhh, which room . . .” Dean faltered.

“Second door on the right,” Gabe answered.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean mumbled as he turned for the stairs.

“And straight on ‘til morning!” Gabe added.

Without bothering to turn around, Dean held his middle finger over his head as he walked up the stairs. He stopped in front of the second door and pressed his ear against it. He didn’t want to make the day worse by bumping heads with Gabe and Cas’s parents or twin sister or something. Dean could tell there were people inside, but he wasn’t sure who. He knocked lightly and heard people shuffling around inside followed by, “Come in.”

Dean opened the door and saw Cas, his hair a wreck, sitting at the head of the bed and Sam at the foot. Dorks. He took a seat between the two of them. The bed sheets were slightly rumpled, which at first irked Dean’s compulsion for neatness, but then he remembered this was Cas and decided that it somehow made sense. 

Cas said nothing, Dean didn’t know what to say, and Sam silently leafed through a notebook. Dean pulled a notebook from his bookbag. It was the only one he owned, and it contained quite the menagerie of notes. It had notes on the American Revolution, oxidation reactions, poetry annotations -- sometimes all on the same page. Sam’s notes on the other hand were orderly. They were even coded. And then there were Cas’s notes. Dean was fairly certain that a decoder ring was required to understand Cas’s chicken scratch hodgepodge.

Sam and Cas started geeking out over something Dean felt fairly confident wasn’t going to be on the test. Dean wasn’t able to follow the conversation -- it was some pretty advanced stuff. Then again, Dean was more focused on the fact that Cas’s hair was messier than usual and it was kinda hot.

“Your hair’s such a wreck. Do you style it that way or something?” Dean asked in the middle of whatever Sam and Cas were going on about. “I don’t even understand how it could end up like that!”

Sam looked at Cas’s unruly mop and laughed. Dean rolled his eyes at his brother. Real mature, bro, he thought.

There was an awkward silence where no one made eye contact. “So uh, I can’t figure out the oxidation number for this equation,” Sam said, his voice unsteady. Dean had a strange feeling the quaver was completely unrelated to his brother’s insecurity in his academics. Dean leaned over and looked at the equation in question.

2Al(OH)3 = Al2O3 + 3H2O

“Uhh, because that’s not a redox equation or whatever, right?” Dean said, feeling insecure considering that his nerd brother didn’t know the answer.

Cas placed a hand on Dean’s thigh and leaned over to take a look. Dean wasn’t sure how to react. He thought about reaching over and looping an arm around Cas’s shoulders, but his brother was here and that would be weird. Dean opted to keep his hands planted firmly on the mattress.

“Actually, he’s right,” Cas said, the surprise evident in his voice. Sam caught Cas’s eye to see if he missed a joke. 

“I am?” Dean asked, incredulously.

It was Cas’s turn to look confused. “Yes, you’re right,” he repeated slowly as if changing his rate of speech somehow made the words easier to comprehend. “Not every reaction’s a redox reaction: precipitation, neutralization, and _some_ decomposition reactions -- like this one -- involve oxidation and reduction, but they don’t always have to.”

Sam looked at Dean with awe. He let his jaw open and shut wordlessly a few times before regaining his composure. “Since when did you know shit about school?”

“Shut your trap, bitch,” Dean quipped.

“. . . jerk,” Sam hissed.

“It looks as if you’re doing just fine, Dean. Maybe it’s Sam who needs the extra tutoring. If you need to run, we’ll be fine without you. Gabe can give him a ride home when we’re done.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I think Dad said he needed help in the garage tonight, anyway.”

Not knowing what else to do, Dean retreated downstairs.

Almost as if on cue, Gabe walked past the foot of the stairs as Dean reached the bottom. He suggestively waggled his eyebrows at Dean in a way that before now Dean thought was only possible in cartoons. Dean glowered.

“If looks were intercourse, this would be the best angry sex I’ve ever had,” Gabe said, widening his smile.

“What’s your deal?” Dean asked, pulling off the flannel button down he wore over his t-shirt and tossing it over the railing. Without realizing it, Dean was getting ready to actually fight Gabe. He needed to cool off. He took a measured breath and asked, “Where’s the bathroom?”

Gabe chuckled low. “If I were you, I’d need to rub one out after that intense love-making session too.”

Dean pressed his lips together and breathed in deeply through his nose.

“Alright, alright,” Gabe said, briefly losing his composure. “It’s the last door at the end of the hall.”

Dean narrowed his eyes to slits. Gabe just shrugged and nodded at the hallway. Dean turned on his heel and walked down the hallway hoping that there was a bathroom there. Fortunately, Gabe wasn’t trying to pull a fast one. Actually, now that he thought about it, despite Dean’s lack of trust in the guy, he hasn’t led him astray yet. 

Dean let the water run cold before catching a handful and splashing it on his face. He shook his head and then dried himself with a surprisingly soft hand towel. 

“Alright, Winchester,” he whispered, staring at his reflection in the mirrored medicine cabinet that hung over the sink. “Things have gone south, but you can make this work. You left your shirt on the stairs. You’ll go home and wait until Sam comes back, then ‘remember’ you left your shirt here. You’ll call Cas and go back to get it. That’s when you’ll make your move. No Sammy. No Gabe (hopefully). Just you and Cas. You got this.”

Satisfied with his plan, he gathered his dignity and left the bathroom. He was almost at the front door when he heard someone clear their throat. Dean turned, and there was Gabe holding Dean’s shirt. 

“Forgetting something?”

Dean approached his least favorite person in the world right now and grabbed at the shirt, but Gabe pulled it out of reach. 

“Were you planning on ‘forgetting’ this just so you could come back to see little ol’ me?” Gabe asked.

Dean actually growled.

“Kinky,” Gabe said, tongue darting out to moisten his lips, “Me like.”

“Why do you have to be like that?” 

“Like what?” Gabe asked, his voice tinged with innocence.

Dean cocked an eyebrow.

“Because you’re hot, and as far as I know available,” Gabe answered matter-of-factly.

“Are you for real?” Dean made another grab for the jacket, successfully this time, before making a dramatic exit complete with petulant foot stomping and door slamming.


	4. Cooking Fast and Fresh with Gabe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe is sorry. He attempts to make amends. But . . . well . . . he's Gabe.

  
  


Dean’s phone buzzed. He picked it up. There was one unread message from someone that wasn’t yet saved to his contacts. 

_6:48 AM - [unknown number]: Come over after school today. I want to apologize._

He reasoned it was Cas. The guy was cute, and smart, but also sometimes as dense as a sack of bricks. 

\--*-----

Dean arrived at Cas and Gabe’s home. He was about to knock when the front door swung outward, nearly smashing into Dean’s face.

Gabe flashed a sheepish grin and invited Dean inside.

“So uh . . .” Gabe said, trying to break the ice, “It’s been brought to my attention that I may have been a bit of a dick to you recently.”

“Understatement of the millenia,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“Come again?” Gabe asked in a way where Dean wasn’t sure if Gabe felt slighted or genuinely didn’t hear.

“Nevermind,” Dean answered, fidgeting with a piece of lint in his pocket. “So where is everyone?”

“I convinced Cassie that he’s going to fail all of his classes unless he hits the books, so he’s probably at the library.”

Sam was at the library too. Dean felt a tinge of jealousy. He shook it off. “What about the ‘rents?”

“Oh,” Gabe said, looking slightly wounded, “Dad’s off doing nothing important. Sometimes I feel like he’s invisible.”

“Oh,” was the only response Dean could muster. He knew all about absent fathers. He had one. And Gabe never mentioned his mother. Dean remembered the offhand comment about swearing over his mother’s grave. Dean didn’t know how to respond. Sometimes it was best not to dwell on the things you couldn’t change. He didn’t pry.

“Anyway,” Gabe said, suddenly his chipper self again, “I called you here to apologize.”

“Okay.” Dean answered, wondering where this was going.

“So uh, I figured out you have a thing for Cassie,” Gabe said, a smile forming at the corners of his lips, “And uh, after the last time you were here, I thought that I should try to make it up to you.”

“Alright,” Dean answered. He was skeptical. He knew there would be a catch.

“So, I thought that I could help you cook Cas’s favorite meal before he gets home.”

“Oh,” Dean said, pleasantly surprised at the offer. “Yeah, I can dig that.”

“Sweet!” Gabe said, leading Dean into the kitchen.

Dean looked around and saw that Gabe was no slouch. He already had the entire kitchen set up like a TV cooking show. Premeasured bowls lined the countertops.

Dean was speechless as he took in the scene set before him. “Shit,” he whispered under his breath, “Bet you’re glad I agreed, huh?”

Gabriel flashed a grin. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he answered. “I think we should have at least an hour to ourselves.”

Something about the way Gabe said that didn’t sit quite right. But that was around the same time that Dean noticed the rather extensive collection of wine on the kitchen counter. 

Gabe followed Dean’s gaze. “Oh I see,” Gabe said, “but if you want the really good stuff, we’ve got some vintage crap down in the basement.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Gabe replied, “Follow me.”

The pair descended into the cellar. Dean was surprised to see such a large selection down there. Gabe walked over to a wall and picked a bottle. “How about we share this one?” Gabe suggested.

“Does Cas like that one?” Dean asked sincerely, “Wait . . . does that nerd ever let loose and drink?”

Gabe’s smile faltered for a moment. “You’d never guess it, but he has a bit of a sweet tooth,” he answered. “And Cassie would like this one,” he said picking up a different bottle.

“Sweet!”

“Very sweet,” Gabe smiled wickedly. “The last time dear, _old_ Castiel had at this vintage he--”

“Cathy who?”

“Castiel.”

“. . .” 

“My brother?” Gabe said, suddenly unsure if he was missing a joke. “You know. Tall, dark, and clueless.”

Dean slowly started to put the pieces together.

“No wonder you like him,” Gabe said, rolling his eyes, “You’re both idiots.”

Dean pressed his lips together to keep from telling Gabe how big an idiot he thought _he_ was.

“Where did they come up with a name like ‘Castiel’?” Dean asked, “Oh, is it like a religious thing? I didn’t even think. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“In a way,” Gabriel started, “Apparently my mother felt that the music of Peter Gabriel was a religious experience. So I’m Gabriel. And in some misguided attempt to honor that, the little bro was named Castiel. Gabriel and Castiel Novak. And before you ask, I don’t get it either.”

“Ohhh,” Dean said, nodding. He finally had a full(er) account of Cas and Gabe’s names. “Anyway, we should probably get started before Cas _tiel_ gets home.”

“Right-o, Dean!” Gabe agreed and bounded back up to the kitchen.

Back upstairs, the boys began cooking a feast fit for a king. 

“Hey, you’re pretty good at this cooking thing,” Dean said. 

Gabe stopped chopping whatever it was, something like pull and pour chicken, and faced Dean, knife in hand. Dean winced. He didn’t really think the guy was going to stab him for doling out a compliment, but Dean wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t either.

Gabe frowned, “Thank you?”

“That was a compliment, genius,” Dean answered. “And what was that called again?”

“Poulet pour chiens,” Gabe answered with a smile. “Although, Cas would say that my specialty is ‘l'acquisto di prodotti alimentari’,” Gabe resigned.

“What’s that?”

Gabe grinned. “Do you really want to know, darling?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, letting out a deep, dramatic breath, “I would like to know what Cas thinks your specialty is. You know, since we’re basically supposed to be making that now.”

“Take out,” Gabe answered, and getting back to work.

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Dean replied. “It’s my specialty too. Sam says my take out always tastes better than Dad’s.”

“Is that so?” Gabe asked, tossing the chicken into flour. “In that case, I think we might just have to have a competition.”

“Of what?” Dean asked. “Who has the more incompetent father?”

Gabe hesitated.

Dean managed a sheepish smile. “I mean, not that your dad’s incompetent. I didn’t mean . . . I just thought . . .”

“Well, maybe not incompetent. Just absent. So guess you win that one. But I was thinking something more along the lines of best take out.”

“That’s not even a thing. How can one take out be better than another?” Dean asked, poking the food he was preparing. “Hey, what’s this one called again?”

“Oh! That’s the alpolitino,” Gabe answered. “And that’s the whole point of the contest. You said your take out was better than your dad’s. So _clearly_ Sam thinks there’s a difference. It couldn’t hurt to have a friendly contest.”

“A-pol-latino?”

Gabe laughed. “Close enough.” 

“Well, whatever it is, it smells pretty damn good,” Dean replied. “And you’re a pretty good cook. I’m not so bad myself, but I stick to the classics: burgers, chicken soup, mac and cheese -- but not the box kind, the old fashioned kind -- and spaghetti with meatballs. But you know that fancy foreign crap.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a pretty fast study,” Gabe complimented.

“Guess I just have a good teacher,” Dean answered.

“Or maybe you’re just sucking up. No special treatment for the teacher’s pet,” Gabe warned with a wicked wink.

“Wasn’t asking for any.”

“Right . . . well, we just gotta pop this baby in the oven and make sure not to burn the house down.”

“Awesome,” Dean said, smiling again.

“But in the meantime, what do you say we pop open one of these bottles and have a little fun before Cas gets here?”

Dean paused. On the one hand, he could use some help in relaxing, but on the other, he didn’t want to get drunk before Cas came home. He needed a good excuse. “What about your dad? Won’t he notice if we start drinking his stash?” Dean asked.

“He wouldn’t care,” Gabe answered. “He probably won’t even notice. Just don’t get yourself a DWI and we should be good. No harm, no foul, right?”

Dean shrugged and let Gabe open the bottle and pour a couple of glasses. He handed one to Dean, who looked at it warily.

“Do you think we should have a toast or something?” Dean asked.

“A toast?” Gabe repeated. 

“Yeah, to commemorate the occasion.”

Gabe nodded solemnly. “To absent fathers, overburdened siblings, and burgeoning relationships.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, but not his glass.

“What?” Gabe asked.

“I dunno,” Dean answered. “That was just sorta serious.”

“Well, you asked for a toast. What were you expecting? A knock-knock joke?”

“No,” Dean answered. “I was thinking something more like ‘to our culinary prowess’.”

“In that case, I make a toast: ‘to our culinary prowess!” Gabe said, raising his glass.

Dean brought his own glass to clink with Gabe’s. “To us!”

Before they knew it Gabe’s phone pinged. It was a text from Cas and he was on his way back. 

Dean and Gabe rushed around the kitchen plating and cleaning. Although Dean didn’t see it happen, he was pretty sure that instead of washing the dirty dishes, Gabe had stuffed a few pots and pans in the oven.

Dean spent the time flicking through the Novak’s record collection. Despite Cas’s disrespect for Metallica, he still had a respectable collection. Dean stiffened at the sound of a key in a lock. 

Gabe shoved Dean to the front door, assuring him with a nod and a wink that he would take care of the music. Dean hurried off to his prescribed hiding spot.

The door opened and Dean welcomed a shocked Cas. Castiel seemed to have forgotten how to close his mouth and was staring at the rather impressive (if he did say so himself) dinner display set before him.

But Cas’s expression was far from impressed. In fact, Dean thought he almost looked angry. Cas didn’t know what to say, and quite frankly Dean was relieved that Cas seemed too upset to say anything at all. Fortunately, the distinctive crackle of a record starting tempered the moment.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean greeted, hoping he sounded as casual and friendly as he was trying to be.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas answered. “What are you doing h--”

That’s when the sound of synthetic drums filled the room.

It was Dean’s turn to see red. He spun to look for Gabe, but he was nowhere to be seen. Figured the guy would run. Dean quickly recognized the music as the intro to Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up.” 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas said, looking at the floor.

“Sorry for what?”

“I must have seemed ungrateful when I walked in, but I thought . . .” he trailed off as Rick Astley vowed to never tell a lie.

“Thought what?”

“Nothing,” Castiel answered, despite the fact that it was clear that it wasn’t nothing. “You did all this?” he asked, gesturing to the candles lighting the way to a table set for two.

“I um, well, actually G--” Dean cut himself off. “Yeah,” he finished lamely, running a hand through his hair. 

Cas walked toward the table without waiting for Dean. Dean could be a perfect gentleman. He would have pulled out Cas’s chair for him, but Cas sat down before Dean had the chance to react.

“So what do we have here?” Cas asked. There was actually quite an assortment of foods. Dean genuinely didn’t remember what was what. Gabe told him all the exotic names and made Dean repeat them, but in this moment he couldn’t recall any.

“All your favorites!” he answered, smiling at how clever his answer was.

Cas made a face that might have been a frown before picking things to put on his plate. Dean heaped a bunch of everything Cas did.

Dean was pleasantly surprised with the dinner. Gabe forbade him from tasting while they cooked. “But that’s half the fun!” Dean had whined and attempted to sneak bites here and there when Gabe wasn’t looking. However, Gabe was vigilant in his watch. Now Dean could finally indulge himself, but Cas seemed content to just move the contents of his plate around. 

“Not hungry?” Dean asked after swallowing another mouthful. 

“I guess not,” Cas answered, taking a sip of water.

“Oh shit!” Dean exclaimed suddenly, dropping his fork onto his plate with a clatter. Cas leapt up to see if Dean was alright. “The wine!” Dean ran off into the kitchen and opened the bottle. He remembered Gabe mentioned something about aerating the wine, but he didn’t have time for that now. He was pouring the second glass when the doorbell rang. Shit, Dean thought. Shit shit shit! Cas’s parents are here! And I’m wearing Gabe’s clothes and pouring wine. Is Gabe even 21? Well, they don’t know me. Maybe I can pull it off.

“Heya, Cas!”

That voice . . .

Dean watched Sam through the front door. Cas hugged Sam. No . . . Dean shook his head. No. This was normal. It’s the 21st century. Guys can hug. It’s cool. Whatever.

Sam said something that Dean couldn’t hear and Cas stiffened. Sam pushed him away and held Cas at arm’s length.

“Sam, I--”

“Cas?”

Cas leaned forward and whispered something into Sam’s ear.

“DEAN DID WHAT WITH THE INGREDIENTS FOR MY DELICIOUS DOGGIE DELIGHTS?” he shouted, stomping toward the kitchen.

Dean gulped both his glass and the half a glass of wine he had poured for Cas, then bolted past an angry Sam, escaping the wrath of his younger brother.

At least for now.


	5. Sastiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Warning . . . SASTIEL

  
  


Dean would never be able to look at dog food the same way again. That stuff he made with Gabe was freaking _gourmet_. It wasn’t just some canned Alpo . . . lito? That couldn’t be a coincidence. The damned asshole had the nerve to even tell Dean what he was eating. And Dean was stupid enough to run with it. But it was tasty. Maybe dog food’s been given a bad rap. Even so, that didn’t mean that he forgave the guy. It was still _dog_ food. 

And Sam! Sam was never going to let him live it down. Every day since, Sam begged their Dad for a dog. So much so, that nearly two months later, Dean was convinced that Sam really _did_ want a dog and that this wasn’t just some sly jab for using up all the ingredients for Sam’s weird community service project. 

In fact, Dean _almost_ wanted to indulge the damn kid, but he worried about his little brother’s sick sense of humor. He didn’t want things to get _worse_ after the dog arrived. Plus, he didn’t want to end up taking over another responsibility. He could see it now. Sam gets a dog, loves it unconditionally for about two weeks, and then Dean is left literally cleaning up its shit. No sir, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

Instead, Dean decided to completely ignore his brother’s pleas (that always just so happened to occur when Dean was in the room). Last night Dean walked into a room _just_ in time to hear, “Dad, please can I have a dog?” Stupid kid had the stupid gall to then look up at Dean with _his_ stupid big puppy eyes before adding, “Dean and I just _really_ want one!” 

Dean had had enough of that. He needed a quick break from life. So instead of stewing in English class, he took a detour to the bathroom. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to Dr. Turner. Yes. An honest to goodness _doctor_ taught high school English in this bumfuck of a town. But he did less teaching and more lecturing about the days of his youth when kids were good, worked hard, and everyone shat sunshine and rainbows.

Dean walked into the bathroom and thought he heard someone trying to be very quiet. He took a quick peek below the stalls. No legs. Dean breathed out and turned the tap for cold water. He let it run before splashing water that was still a bit too warm on his face. He heard a sharp intake of breath.

Dean jumped. It’s just an echo, he thought. Sam’s got you so worked up that now you’re hearing things.

But what he heard next was very much so not a ghost. 

“Sam!”

Dean pumped his fist in the air. Hellz yeah, Sammy. You do you. Way to score . . . although truth be told you’d be better off in the ladies’ room or even the janitor’s closet if you could get a key. The men’s room could be a little ripe at times. Still, Dean would be lying if he wasn’t immensely proud of his dorky little bro scoring one for team Winchester.

“Cassie?” Sam asked, his voice full of nerves, before letting out a sinful groan, “Cas!”

Dean’s pride quickly changed to surprise, then hurt, before finally settling on an anger burning hotter than any hellfire. And if rage wasn’t burning in his ears, he would’ve heard Cas let out a self-satisfied hum. 

Dean balled his hands into fists, but his feet weren’t sure where to take him. Just as Dean decided to pretend he was never here, Sam stumbled out of one of the stalls, a goofy smile plastered across his face. 

Dean stormed out of the bathroom and into the parking lot. Outside, the cool air tempered his emotions enough to think something other than “DO NOT WANT. LEAVE NOW.” Instead he was left to wonder things like What happened to that nice girl from that nerd camp Sammy ran off to every summer? Sammy likes boys? Why didn’t Sam tell him? Sure, this could be a bit of a backwater town, but even the old man never seemed to mind. As long as Dean kept up his work at the garage and brought home a nice girl every now and again, the guy was content to pretend that Dean’s pals were really just over to “rough house.” But Cas? Why did it have to be _Cas_? Sure, they were both complete nerds, but Cas was Dean’s. Well, Cas didn’t really belong to anyone. It wasn’t like Dean laid claim to him. He was fair game. But beat out by his little brother? It stung. It stung so much that it actually physically stung. 

Without remembering how he got there, Dean found himself in the driver’s seat with both hands squeezing the life out of the steering wheel. 

“Get out,” Dean growled, low and quiet, as Sam quietly climbed into the passenger seat.

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, looking at his brother for a hint of forgiveness. His eyes darted away for just a moment to check in with Cas.

“Wait,” Dean called, a softness in his tone which shocked Sam. “And tell Cas to get his skinny ass in here.”

“Cas’s ass is NOT sk--”

“Shut it before I kick _your_ skinny ass out of the car, Sammy.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean said, his face softening.

Sam opened the door and scooched his seat forward so Cas could climb into the back seat.

“Alright,” Dean said, a slight quaver in his voice that he hoped no one else noticed, “how about we ditch school and head back home.”

“Um, Dad’s on a hunting trip,” Sam said, making pointed eye contact with his brother, “Remember?”

“Oh, right,” Dean replied. That was their code for “Dad’s on a bender and we best steer clear.” “So uhh, who’s up for some grub?”

“We can go to my place,” Cas volunteered.

And that was that.

Dean drove to the Novaks’ and after Sam let them in (Sam had a key? How long has this little fling been going on?), they were greeted by Gabe walking in wearing nothing but a pair of neon pink briefs. Sam and Cas stifled giggles and ran into Cas’s room locking the door. Dean stood there mortified and not quite sure where to look. The floor was a great choice, but that damn color kept catching his eye. 

It really was the worst thing ever.

No. The worst thing was that Gabe had this sort of self-satisfied grin that seemed to widen with Dean’s discomfort. Well, at least until Dean took off his jacket, leaving him feeling very naked and exposed -- which was ridiculous given Gabe’s state -- and heaved it at Gabe’s chest and insisted that he put it on.

“So uh . . .” Dean led off.

“Yes?”

“Um, so Sam and Cas, they uh . . .”

Gabe sat on the couch and gestured for Dean to join him. Dean shook his head in the negative and instead watched Gabe sprawl out decadently.

“They’re like, a thing?” Dean sputtered.

Gabe nodded, silent, and for a change, not smirking.

“Oh.” was all that Dean could manage as he rested his elbows on the back of the couch.

Dean took a few measured breaths before pushing up to his hands. He wasn’t sure what he expected Gabe to say, but silent yet solemn affirmation wasn’t on the list of things he was prepared for.

“Well, uh, after they’re um . . .” Dean looked up at the stairs, then clapped both hands on the couch, “done or whatever. Do you think you could give them a ride back? I don’t like the idea of Sammy walking home alone.”

“Jealous much?” Gabe replied, quirking an eyebrow.

Dean glared, forgetting his heartache for half a second. “I am not--”

Gabe quieted Dean with a pointed look.

“I’m only human,” Dean replied. “Have you _seen_ your brother?”

Gabe glared at Dean. “I resent that,” he said. “Have you seen _me_?” Gabe retorted. He removed his legs from the couch and invited Dean to join him.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Dean answered, sitting on the couch a respectable distance from Gabe. “I believe I’ve seen more than enough of you.”

“Oh.”

They sat on the couch pretending they didn’t hear the rustling coming from Cas’s room.

“Sooo . . .” Dean said, trying to drown out the noise, “do you know if your parents gave Cas the you know, the like birds and bees lecture?”

Gabe held back a laugh.

“Alright, well if they’re not cool with it -- have you?”

Gabe threw his head back and let out a giant guffaw.

“Hey! This isn’t funny!” Dean shouted. “They need to know this shit!”

“Settle down, big guy. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

“No, _you_ settle down, you little twat! I don’t need my brother getting screwed -- figuratively speaking that is -- because you decided to be irresponsible!”

“Shut it, Winchester.” Gabe said, sternly. “Dearest little Cassie and Sam have been at this ever since they met at camp summer before last. And I don’t think they’ve ever done anything more sinful than fantasizing about holding hands all day.”

It was at this point that Dean’s brain decided to play back the memory of Sam and Cas in the bathroom stall. “Hate to break it to you, _Novak_ , but your dearest brother isn’t as innocent as you’d like to think. I caught the pair of them in the bathroom today and I don’t think they were just holding hands.”

“We have a voyeur? I always thought you’d have a fun kink or two, but I didn’t picture you a peeping tom.”

“I’m not . . .” Dean trailed off. Gabe’s face told him that there was nothing he could say to convince him otherwise.

“I didn’t _see_ anything, not that you’re listening, but I just figured you should . . .” Dean’s sentence died in his mouth. “Did you say ‘summer before last?’”

Gabriel nodded.

“So if you knew, why in god’s name did you help me cook dinner for Cas?”

“Because it was just a harmless crush. I honestly didn’t know. Also, it was dog food.”

“It was pretty damn good,” Dean said before he could stop the words from escaping. “For dog food, that is.”

“Sibling scopophiliac, canine connoisseur . . . You’re quite the rebel, hot stuff.”

“Yeah, well at least I’m not an asshole,” Dean muttered.

“Yeah, well, I know you can’t wait for me to get inside _your_ asshole.”

“What” Dean exclaimed, “the hell are you on about?”

“God, you’re thick!” Gabriel said, throwing on his default self-assured grin, grabbing a very confused Dean by the shirt collar and pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

  
  



	6. Debriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had to happen eventually . . .

[4 years later]

“I can’t believe you asked me to prom,” Gabriel said, giddy as a schoolgirl.

“It’s not your prom.”

“It’s still romantic.”

“It’s not my prom, either.”

“Don’t ruin it.”

“It’s not even Cassie’s prom.”

“Spoilsport.”

“We’re here for Sam.”

“And he sure has _grown_ into quite the _younger_ brother,” Gabe added standing on his toes and trying to invoke Dean’s tone of voice from the first time they met.

“Shut it.”

“You know you love it.”

“I’m only here because for some reason you took it upon yourself to chaperone the damned thing and I figured the administration must be stupid to not realize you would need your own damned chaperone.”

“Sammy!” Gabe exclaimed, leaving Dean’s side to give the giant boy a hug. He had to be well over six feet now. He was even taller than Dean. “And who is this fine young lady?” Gabe asked, kissing the hand of the aforementioned woman.

“Please excuse my idiot of a boyfriend, Jess,” Dean interrupted, sweeping Gabe away. “He sometimes forgets that I’m not deaf or blind and certainly not stupid enough to let him hit on my baby brother’s girl.”

Jess giggled politely as Dean kept rambling under his breath. “Like where do I even start with this. The fact that you’re flirting with someone in front of me. A girl. A taken girl. And taken by my little brother. That’s just wrong. Almost as wrong as if our brothers were still screwing around. Like is that even Kosher?”

“Hey,” Gabe said, invading Dean’s headspace, “if these eyes and ears weren’t meant to behold beauty, let me be stricken deaf and blind now!” Gabe announced dramatically.

Jess just smiled when Sam and Dean rolled their eyes in unison.

“And to what do we owe this brilliant moment of Winsync?” Cas asked, intruding on the conversation.

“You know I hate it when you call it that,” Sam whined, playfully punching Cas in the shoulder.

“Careful there, Sammy. Don’t want Jess getting jealous,” Dean teased.

“Jealous or not, I wouldn’t chance getting on Meg’s bad side,” Jess answered, laughing.

“Smart girl,” Meg replied only half-jokingly, a smile curling at the corners of her lips and arms curling possessively around Castiel’s waist.

“Alright, enough squabbling over my brother. Squeeze in for embarrassing photos that I’ll show to all your offspring at every family gathering,” Gabe announced.

“Hey, ya gotta admit he is cute,” Dean said, throwing out a few “comedy elbows.”

“Watch it!” Gabe warned, “Or you’ll be sleeping alone tonight.”

Dean didn’t flinch. He knew it was all for show. “Yeah? Well, maybe I could use a break from your blanket stealing ass.”

“Oh you know you love this ass,” Gabe shot back without hesitation.

“LALALALALA! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Sam shouted with both hands covering his ears.

“This is the _senior_ prom, Winchester.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean answered, straightening up. “Er . . . ma’am. Yes ma’am!” Dean said, fumbling his faux pas.

“Guilty conscience, Dean?” Principal Naomi questioned. “You’re here to _set_ an example. Not for me to _make_ an example of. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“In that case,” she continued, “I hope you all have a wonderful night. Be safe.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the group chorused as she walked away.

Once she was out of sight, Gabriel provided a dramatic reenactment of the principal’s interjection. Dean shoved him playfully, but Gabe caught him and dragged him down into a kiss so naughty everyone felt a need to look away.

“Alright, show’s over,” Dean gruffed after Gabe released him. “Gather ‘round for the damn picture.”

“Hey, you guys gotta get in here with us,” Sam demanded.

“Yeah, well who’s gonna take the picture?”

“Me, of course!” Gabe answered tugging at something from his inside jacket pocket.

“A selfie stick?” Dean asked, judging Gabe quite harshly. “Really?”

“Not another word,” Gabe warned.

“You guys are so married,” Meg quipped.

“Are not!” Dean and Gabe replied in unison.

". . . yet." Gabe continued alone.

Sam, Cas, Jess and Meg gasped as Dean blushed.

"Did you just . . ."

“Alright, alright. Show’s over,” Gabe said, “Everyone smile for the camera!”

The bunch of them gathered close and smiled as Gabe captured the moment.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [this might be the start](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10326272) by [ideare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideare/pseuds/ideare)




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